Of Mists and Thunder
by LediShae
Summary: AU, G1 based. A Buddhist priest steeped in old traditions struggles to find his way in a changing Japan as the new Meiji Era brings challenges to all of the land. Wandering, begging for his rations, he finds an abandoned temple and an ancient secret within. Inspired by the Meiji-formers by Sidian007.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **AU, set in Meiji-era Japan, with _lots_ of artistic license and liberties. Notes are included when actual cultural/historical references are made. All TF caracters are based off the G1 designs.

**Special Thanks: **To Exactlywhat for being an awesome beta.

**Disclaimer: **Transformers belongs to many other people, but not me. This was inspired by the Meiji-formers which belong to Sidian007 on deviantart. If you are not familiar with the work, check it out. All the Meiji-formers artwork is absolutely amazing. The images acted as inspiration to this fic, no parts of those images were used or described intentionally below.

Warnings: only my poor attempts at humor which rarely show properly. My apologies in advance ... and now, let our story begin.

* * *

_Japan, March 5, 1851, Present Day_

Early spring crystal-grass swayed in the chill morning breeze. Rolling hills of emerald and jade rose in burgeoning swells reaching to the forested mountains bearing a thin, sparkling trim of winter's last snow. All around the soft trickling of falling water sounded as ice melted in the brilliant sunlight. It was beautiful; a small valley leading to the treacherous mountains further east that glowed warmly in Ameteratsu's(1) joyous light.

Yes, it was beautiful here, and the lone wander passing through gave his thanks to the local spirits of the grassland, river and snow by placing a small offering near a river stone bordering a tiny burbling stream of snowmelt. The wanderer, dressed in robes of white and crimson, was a Buddhist priest(2). Traveling alone he meditated on the world and begged for energon from travelers and villages he passed. It was a simple life, yet one he felt he did not deserve.

The priest sighed after he crossed the tiny brook and sat upon a low stone. Beside him, sitting on another stone, sat all his worldly possessions. A tall maple wood and silver steel staff, topped with a hoop and rings that jingled as he walked serving as a chime to call to others that he was approaching. Beside the staff sat his healing chest, a hefty wood and steel cube intricately fashioned to hold all his herbs and tools. The chest had once belonged to another healer; his mentor and father. A simple woven hat of pleated cupronickel(3) to ward off the rain and searing sun, a plasma-gourd with a stopper to hold energon when it was plentiful and his begging bowl when dregs were all that any could offer. The small pile that comprised the sum total of his life's work made the healer sad for a moment.

It had been so long since he last spoke with another mech. Normally he begged from the villages he passed, offering aid of healing or blessing of homes and warding off evil if the village refused begging as was becoming so common in these strange modern days. He had been wandering for many years now. He knew the world had changed without him, left him behind as the ports accepted the strange ships billowing black smoke and the strange ways of the demon men of the west(4). The few times he entered large cities he saw a world so different from the one he knew when he was young…

* * *

_Japan, February 9, 1820_

All in Japan know the dangers of the sea. The tsunami creep up and swallow villages whole, typhoon rage and smash all within their path. So much damage comes from the sea, yet destruction also comes from the land. The earth quakes and shudders like a whipped criminal begging for mercy. Other calamity comes from the sky. Howling winds, drowning rains, encompassing snows all descend from the skies to make miserable the lowly lives of mortal mechs.

The village of Miho(5) had been buried in snow for weeks, digging themselves out when the blizzard passed, making domes of protective insulation over their homes. The snow was high enough to swallow the high mountain temple and whole trees. When the sun rose, some weeks later the village was decimated. Snow melted so fast the roads became sludge and water ruined the wooden homes. All too soon the sludge hardened into bricks and the wood turned into dried, frayed tinder.

The head man of the village had promised omens of good fortune to come, had sworn that their offerings of the meager scraps left from their winter stores would secure a bountiful spring and the Gods' favor.

That favor never came.

A week after the snow began to melt sickness spread through the village, all but the healer's family, his son and daughter were saved. The three together worked to tend to the village, begin to plant their crops and heal their friends and neighbors. It was too much work for three humble healers. In days the entire village lay in fevered sickness, wracked with disease as the healers ignored everything save their patients.

Then, one night after a day of unusual heat, a sick patient kicked over a candle in a spasm of sickness and sent flames roaring through the ruined village. Striving to save their patients from the flames the healers never noticed the receding ocean. It was the sudden hush, moments later when the fire was quenched in the main building their patients were housed in that warned the healers. Looking out they saw the fire gleaming off a charging wall of water.

Terrified, they fled, racing into the nearby forest of organic trees and crystal greenery fleeing from fire and water past patches of still thick snow as they raced up the near mountain. When they finally stopped and faced the eastern rising sun, there was nothing left. The village, its animals and every mech and femme had been swallowed by the sea.

"Father, what do we do?" the son asked.

"We go to Edo(6) and offer our services there." The father replied. With only their tattered robes upon their backs the family of healers trudged the nearly forty _ri_ to Edo…

* * *

_Japan, March 5, 1851_

The priest shook his head and stood, with a sigh he moved from the low rock and headed further north bypassing the high mountains filled with spirits and demons that kept men from living on their slopes. He had not thought of his childhood in a long time. Perhaps it was because this plain was so similar to the one he grew up on. With a flick of his hand he absently dispelled the notion. Forcing his mind back to meditation he resumed walking the faint, forgotten path that crossed this once bloodstained plain that saw a thousand battles and trekked onwards to the next village, wherever that may be.

* * *

_Japan, April 21, 1851_

"I am at your mercy," The healer bowed low as the energon was poured miserly into his begging bowl.

"We have little energon, Priest; but the village across the forest has plenty and they suffer sickness. They would gladly trade you for your services." The towering grey mech spoke hesitantly eyeing the priest in the strange robes of white and red.

"I have only my hands, and what skills I can offer. Is there anything I can do in trade for a place to rest?" The priest asked softly, optics to the ground.

"No, wanderers are not welcome here. You must leave, or the Emperor's men will come as you are breaking his decree." The mech replied snidely, staring down on the priest with hostile optics as he held the energon vessel close. It was a strange container, hued black and tan with letters the priest had never seen before written across it.(7)

"I – understand." The priest replied and left, although he didn't really understand at all. What power did the Emperor possess? The Shogun held all power in Nihon, he had since known memory. Disturbed and feeling old, the priest trod a rough path leading from the village, eyeing strange devices the villagers used warily as they seemed otherworldly to his humbled optics.

"That was cruel, Downspin," a femme rebuked softly behind her husband as she watched the priest travel away. "How is such a hermit to know that the Emperor bested the Shogun in war for power? Or that the foreigners have come from the seas?"

"He moved," The mech shrugged unconcerned and tightened the sash over his work robes. "The emperor banned the Buddhists, we are Shinto now."

"Then we are to descend into the Shinto underworld of filth and defilement, instead of rise to join Buddha?" The femme questioned as she turned to her own duties.

"Wife, if the Emperor decrees that we die Buddhist, only then will I pray." The mech nodded and turned to chop wood for their fire.

* * *

The priest sighed, feeling despair in his spark. Before him stood a deteriorating temple, short and humble it was being reclaimed by the forest. Around it, shingles lay on the ground and holes riddled the wood paneling of its sides where little insects had eaten through the wood. "Then I am to stay here." He nodded to himself, moving into the questionable shelter as the rains began to fall.

Inside it was clean, it looked lived in, but empty. Little dust was present and some areas of the wall seemed recently repaired. On the eastern side of the temple a massive bronze statue of Buddha sat in lotus position, his right hand pointed downward, palm out in blessing. The left hand held a bowl with a crystal ginko shaped like a bonsai kept by the daimyo.(8,9) It was beautiful, green crystals seeming to flutter as the waning sunlight filtering through the dense clouds and light rain played through the leaves.

The healer smiled as he knelt in prayer, "Perhaps, Ratchet, this is an omen." Ratchet spoke to himself, and smiled through world weary optics before closing them in meditation. Pedes crossed over each other, the right ball placed against the left leg with the left ped crossed over his right calf, he sat back struts straight below his flowing robes, in lotus position mimicking the statue before him.

As the shadows deepened and evening slowly faded into night two sets of dark optics kept a blind vigil over the praying priest until night was deep and the priest laid out in slumber. At the foot of the Buddha statue sat a meager offer of energon, over half of Ratchet's collected ration. Fully asleep, the temple settled and with the coming of midnight blind, staring optics began to glow.

In the far corners of the temple, guarding Buddha on the left and right, were two statues of ancient demons that had been banished to earth by an ancient warrior long ago. The statues, bearing snarling faces and wicked hands tipped with talons and holding massive, fearful weapons slowly changed from the dark burgundy of ancient wood to metal plating of red and yellow.

"Slag," the right hand statue-turned-mech groaned as he looked at the temple.

"What's wrong now?" The other mech sighed looking at the repairs that should have been shiny and new yet looked worn.

"Cherry blossoms," The first replied, looking at the few cast off blossoms that had found their way into the temple.

"Great, we finally get some wood in here only to lose three weeks to the cherry blossom festival!" The second groaned. "The wood's gone too."

"Great, fun, we've been trapped in this slag heap for centuries and the Jade Empror's court is still laughing at us." (10)

"Sunny," The first paused, finally noticing their visitor slumbering on the floor.

"Don't call me that!"

"We've got a problem." He finished, ignoring his companion's interruption.

"What – oh." Optics met in worry, they had not had a visitor at night in all their centuries guarding the abandoned temple. Wars had come and gone since the long ago massacre that had claimed the proud warrior priests that had once called this temple home. Since then they had been alone, their temple crumbling around them and with its slow destruction came the promise of theirs.

"Sides, is he a priest?" The yellow demon knelt beside the sleeping figure, his yellow fingers transparent as he traced the air over the sleeping face. He smiled slightly, "He's warm." It was never warm here, high on the mountain with no villages nearby. This warmth of a living being so close to his incorporeal hand made him tingle, almost as if remembering what it was like to be alive.

"I think so!" The red demon knelt beside his brother holding his hands out to the slumbering priest's frame as if warming near a fire. "His breath tastes sweet. He's a true believer, and humble." The red demon inhaled deeply again, his plating shifting as he took in the delicious essence of the priest.

"Are you insane?" The yellow demon snarled, slapping his brother from the priest's side. "Drinking him, before the Buddha? We're punished enough I don't want _Father_ to send a storm and destroy our temple!"

The red one hung his helm, black horns making him almost seem like an oni, the ogres of ancient times. "Sorry Sunstreaker, but he's delicious and I'm hungry. We haven't been able to taste the believers in so long." Prayers were their nourishment in their horrible intangible forms. Where once they had fed on prime grade energon or mechanimals of all types they now could only drink of the faithful, this priest offered them their first meal in centuries.

Sunstreaker sighed, "I know, he's pure, faithful, humble – and tortured. He _is_ delicious." In unconscious unison the pair licked their lips wishing they dared bend close and drink in his exhalations, but time was short. During the weeks when the cherry trees bloomed the demon brothers slumbered. Why, they never knew but it took away so much time for them to work.

"Come on, let's see if any deadfall was blown inside." Sunstreaker urged and turned to the hidden doorway that led to the old quarters of the priests. He took a few silent steps then paused to glare at his brother, still staring mesmerized at the mortal priest sleeping in their temple. "Sideswipe!"

"Coming," Sideswipe rose reluctantly and turned to follow. He never tired of the cosmic joke their lives had become. The temple their statues rested in deteriorated daily, each night they had to fix what they could to keep it from crumbling into dust. Yet, the old quarters of the long lost priests tucked under the temple set deeply into the earth remained untouched by time. Woven covers were never moth eaten, the wood shingled roof of the few wings that stuck out beyond the temple's protection never leaked. It still smelled of those ancient priests who had turned to fighting and warfare to keep themselves safe from the invading, bloodthirsty Christians. (11)

Sometimes fresh wood would be blown in by passing storms, almost like gifts from their father Susano-o to keep them going. "Quit dwelling on him, Sides," Sunstreaker sighed, "Our father disowned us when Ameteratsu imprisoned us here at the Jade Emperor's request."

The Jade Emperor, ruler of Heaven who sits at the feet of Buddha had long hated the storm brothers, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Known to the mortals below as Fujin and Raijin, the gods of wind and thunder, the pair had had great fun following in their father's wake sending great winds and terrible thunder to scare the villagers. Their aunt, Susuano-o's sister had been displeased and had beseeched the Buddha to intervene on her behalf. (12)

Sideswipe grinned. They had gotten 'promoted' to heavenly generals serving in the Jade Emperor's army as the Buddha sought to curb their evil ways. It had been fun, for a few centuries but, then they had gotten bored. Picking up on his brother's thoughts Sunstreaker grinned at the memory of ruining several heavenly feasts and banquets by extravagant pranks. Holy fruits and sacred waters had been replaced by those of mortal creation and metalli-mule piss. That last one had been priceless.

Only, the piss had made several of the gods sick, and killed one heavenly general. Seen as menaces they had been stripped of their god-hood and sent to live among mortals. It wasn't their fault they were good at fighting, and had no lineage, land or skills to grant them livelihoods otherwise. So they became fighters and terrorized all of the Kingdom of Wei.

"Ow!" Sideswipe rubbed the back of his helm tenderly, "It's not fair that we're transparent and unable to touch anything living and yet you can still hit me!"

"It was still your fault that Gods took offense for killing off that whining emperor." Sunstreaker snarled as he pulled at a chest of draws, dismantling the beautiful craftsmanship with a heavy spark as he gathered wood for much needed repairs in the temple.

"But he was useless and a coward!" Sideswipe protested, frowning as his brother destroyed one more memory of their short lived happy times. "Besides, how were we to know Aunt Ame still counted the mortal emperors among her children?" He asked referring to the Sun Goddess Ameteratsu by her much hated nickname.

"We couldn't, but it was your bright idea." Sunstreaker sulked.

Sideswipe grinned, "I didn't hear you complaining."

"Come on, I can't destroy anything else." Gathering the few slats of wood they turned to the temple and frowned when an invisible force began pulling them apart from each other.

"That's not fair! We just woke up and it's already sunrise." Sideswipe pouted even as they were pulled back to the waiting statues with the rising sun. As the first rays of light kissed the temple they were once more encased by all consuming, ancient wood and the slats they carried fell to the ground in a noisy clatter.

* * *

(1) Amateratsu – principal deity of Japan's Shinto faith, Sun Goddess, Ancestress to the First Emperor.

(2) In Japan Shinto and Buddhism live side by side and are often worshipped simultaneously. Ratchet's red and white robes were inspired by the Meji-formers by ***. In the image Ratchet is a Shinto Priest, but I went with a more Inuyasha-ish approach and made him Buddhist. ^.^  
- In Japanese no difference is made between a monk and a priest. The term priest here is used as Ratchet is ordained within the Buddhist ranks, while a monk may or may not be.

(3) Cupronickle – the copper-nickel alloy used to plate American 5 cent nickels.

(4) 1845 Commodore Matthew Perry forced Japan to open their ports to American steam vessels after two hundred plus years of isolation. These ports were used as way stations on the way to China's riches.

(5) Historic account of the destruction of Miho village. Visit: Oregon Department of Geology and Mineral Industries - Geologic Hazards of the Oregon Coast: Historic accounts and oral histories of coastal destruction.

(6) Prior to 1845 Tokyo was known as Edo, and was not the capitol of Japan, or Nihon, that was saved for Kyoto.

(7) The Emperor of Japan was considered to be the living embodiment of the Shinto faith. He was head of that religious order and when the Shogun lost power at the fall of the Tokugawa regime the Emperor attempted to ban Buddhism and promote the Shinto faith alone.

(8) Description of the Medicine Buddha.

(9) Daimyo were the vassals of the Shogun, and powerful leaders of their lands.

(10) Jade Emperor – Ruler of Heaven, a Chinese deity imported to Japan along with Buddhism.

(11) Religious strife between Christians and Buddhists forced many Buddhist sects to take up arms and led to many wars between the two faiths. This bloodshed was one of many factors leading to Japan's seclusionist policy.

(12) According to Japanese mythology Fujin and Raijin were the siblings to Susano-oand Amateratsu created when Izanyagi – the first man – washed the filth of the Shinto underworld from his body after he descended to save his beloved wife from death - and failed. This rite of bathing brought forth numerous gods, and generated the origins of the Japanese mythology.

Meiji era Japan, a country in flux as changes happen daily. One Buddhist Priest, steeped in old traditions and dark memories travels alone until he disturbs an abandoned temple and the hidden demons within. Request fic from darkmustang, inspired by Sidian007's Meiji-formers. AU, G1 characters.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:: **AU, inspired by Sidian007's fantastic Meiji Former series on Deviant Art.

* * *

_Japan, April 22, 1851_

Ratchet gasped, flinging himself from the floor to stand on trembling legs, his fists up and guarded – only there was nothing there. He stood hunched and alone in the deteriorating temple he had sheltered in last night, with only the Buddha beside him. Blinking his optics Ratchet looked closer, scowling at the dark wooden statues he had missed the night before that now glowed a ruddy, warm hue in the brightening dawn. Looking around wildly Ratchet took in the newly deposited wood lying at the statues' feet that smelt sweetly of freshly broken, polished wood.

"Hello?" Ratchet called out with false bravado as he pulled his long over robe back on after having used it as a futon the night before. "Anybody there?" Tentative steps moved him from the temple and out the wide open doorway. He looked to the trail, still wet from the night's rain and blinked nervously. Only deer prints marked the rain scoured trail. A few bird tracks lingered here and there, but otherwise he had been alone all night.

Unnerved, Ratchet returned to the Buddha and performed his morning meditation until full sun up then moved to begin cleaning and mending the temple. Using the collected wood laid by spirits unknown for him to make repairs on the temple's leaky roof. By noon the roof was patched, the shingles fallen to the ground around the temple and scattered among the destroyed remains of an extension to the temple that led into a deep pit underground. Dead fall from the surrounding thick forest had been collected as Ratchet worked, letting it dry within the temple for his hearth fire that night.

Once the sun had reached its zenith, Ratchet donned his travel gear. Once more carrying his life's possessions he turned down the path leading opposite of the way he had come the night previous and strode swiftly towards the faint scent of wood smoke and the call of ironoxen. His steps were sure, preceded by the jangling of his staff.

"Mama! Mama! There's a priest coming!" young mechs called out as they ran away from Ratchet as he approached. He smiled, watching the littles racing to their carriers. It had been too long since he had seen a healthy village with happy young ones.

"Who are you?" A big black mech demanded standing intimidating before his smithy.

"I am Ratchet, a wandering priest and healer. I heard there was a sickness in the area."

Dark red optics studied Ratchet intensely for a moment, "Since when do priests wear the red and white of the miko?" He demanded referring to the female attendants of Shinto shrines. (1)

"I am not wearing a femme's robes!" Ratchet snapped, "I was a doctor before I became a priest. I swore my services to the followers of Buddha." He huffed slightly and looked up to the taller blacksmith. "Is there an illness here, or am I wasting my time?"

The black mech frowned, "I am Steelhide, welcome to Juzori village. Our younglings began falling ill with the spring. We have lost six mechlings and three femmes, all dying within a week of their first cough. Come, I will show you."

Ratchet nodded, following Steelhide through the village. Small huts squatted close together; their rough thatching looked barely serviceable after the long winter. Younglings played, unconcerned with the illness around them, but fear lurked in their optics making their bright hues dim. Ratchet frowned as he moved taking in the young mechs and femmes just barely of bonding age and noting that many already bore signs of age upon their haggard face plating.

"Is there a _nadebotoke_?" (2) Ratchet asked pensively, his guide nodded with a huffed _hn_ and gestured to a low thatched pavilion sitting over a lone statue. It was of an old mech in Buddha's lotus pose, pedes crossed in his lap. Hands, palm up were layered together and cradled against his thighs. The statue, a rubbing Buddha figure, had pale patches where the white wood shone through the dark reddish lacquer from so many hands rubbing it for their own health and that of their younglings. Held in its cradled hands were hundreds of red baby caps, red bibs, and scarves of red and white all begging good health from the perfected saint, Binzuru. Ratchet studied the carving of the wizened old mech with its many bare spots and the hand crafted coverings of red and white. (3)

"How long has Binzuru wept?" Ratchet asked nodding to the statue's face where shimmering tears of fluid mercury seeped from its wooden optics.

"Since Clearlace died." Steelhide looked to the ground, hands fisted in grief and rage, "She was my daughter. She was three."

"Take me to the sick." Ratchet requested turning with his guide to a low hut that smelt of damp rust and tainted oil. Another scent touched his sensors, a hint of malevolence and hunger. "Merciful Goddess!" Ratchet spat, nearly making the invocation to Kannon into a curse. (4)

"Watch your mouth priest."

"This is not a sickness." Ratchet spoke softly turning with horror and dread to the waiting blacksmith. Steelhide starred with wide, fearful optics as Ratchet looked at him. "In this village is a demon, someone was killed by a goblin, and that beast has been using the corpse to spread this disease."

"But no one had died! We've been blessed with good health and longevity since midsummer last." Steelhand protested, fists clenched and trembling to hide his fear.

"Summon your villagers together, tell them that I must administer a tonic to keep the illness at bay." Ratchet sent the mech on his way and entered the sick hut, covering his face with a scented cloth to block the stench. He ground crystal herbs and metallic ores together mixing them into bowls of thin energon and fed the sick children. Eleven were ill ranging from a small sparklet in a weary carrier's arms to the oldest at only eight years.

"This will taste foul, but you must drink it all. This will keep any other children you come near from sickening when the miasma of the sick hut clings to your frame." Ratchet spoke gently to the lone femme tending the sick younglings. She nodded wordlessly, taking the draught and grimacing as she swallowed it down.

Ratchet frowned as she drank, he had hoped this would be easy, but the draught laced with herbs that made demons drowsy had no effect of the femme. With a huff Ratchet departed wordlessly, turning to the fresh air beyond the sick hut and the gathered villagers there.

"Thank you, Steelhide." Ratchet nodded to the blacksmith, "This sickness has plagued you for far too long. I have created a draught that will keep your children safe and cleanse its effects from everyone. Younglings first." Ratchet summoned the village littles to the front giving them little portions they had to swallow down followed by fragrant crystal petals to suck on that would take away the icky flavor.

"Last one," Ratchet rumbled taking the toddler from her mother and holding the tiny femme to his chest. He held the little femme still, making her sip the nasty concoction even as she fussed and cried like the others. Once finished he held up a bright yellow petal making it gleam in the sunlight. Once she noticed it and made grabby motions for the shiny object Ratchet gave both her and the bright petal to her carrier.

"Now, I need the adults. I don't have sweets for the adult, so you'll just have to choke it down fast." Ratchet ground out, his gentle demeanor towards the little children vanished when the last ones were safe in their carrier's arms.

One by one each mature villager took their dose, some gagging others chugging down a swift swallow of sweetened energon to wash away the lingering aftertaste. As the number of villagers needing to take the draught dwindled Ratchet began to despair. If no one reacted to the tonic then he would have to remain in the village for the night, and not return to the quiet solitude of the deteriorating temple that already felt like home.

An old crone shuffled in from the forest, upon her arm hung a basket laden with lightly hued crystal petals, all favorites of littles. "What is it that smells so sweet?" She approached closer to Ratchet scenting the air in appreciation. "That scent, what is it?" She queried again missing Ratchet's urgent signal for silence to the other villagers.

"Wise grandmother, this is an elixir." Ratchet spoke kindly, "It is made of finest herbs from distant islands. Each of your fellows has drunk and spat my special beverage, but I believe you will appreciate the flavor." He eyed her as kindly as he could, hiding his focused intent.

Bright optics surrounded by thick lines of age landed on Ratchet's hands. The crone dropped her basket heedlessly upon the ground and scuttled forward snatching the jar from him. She looked closely at the brew oohing at the scent before she greedily chugged the liquid as if she had not drunk energon for a full vorn.

"What do you call this, priest? This ambrosia lifted from Ameteratsu's own table." By now she was sitting in the dust still drinking heavily to the dregs of the jar, uncaring of the thin streams that missed her mouth.

"It is sweet high grade." Ratchet replied, "Laced with new jewel-cedar leaves." As he finished speaking the old woman shrieked, her voice turning into that of a child and wailing as she shriveled in the sun into little more than metallic ash.

"What was that?" Steelhide demanded, hiding his wife and youngling behind him, bright harvesting sickle held out defensively.

"_Amazake-babaa_, the sweet-sake demon. I've never heard of one traveling this far south." Ratchet sighed, rubbing his face with a single hand tiredly. "I will put up wards around your village. Each home must also place a cedar leaf in your doorway each night. Her physical manifestation has been destroyed but she can still return. Spread the word that she has come to this region."

"We will, great priest." Steelhide replied and bowed with the entirety of the village in unison. Ratchet stared, optics brightening in joy, he had never been thanked so grandly for his services before. Deep in his spark he hoped he would live a worthy life despite everything that had gone wrong.

"Priest Ratchet, how may we repay you?" A femme approached, her now healthy youngling on her hip. It was the tiny infant from the sick hut now optics bright and babbling happily in her mother's arms.

"I am but a simple priest. I ask only a ration." Ratchet bowed in reply as he turned to begin the long tedious process of making and posting sacred ropes and sutras to protect the village from evil.

"Where are you staying?" the femme pressed, adamant to repay the debt of having her child still alive to the priest before he traveled away.

"There is an old temple on the hill back behind the village. I am staying there." Ratchet replied, silently grateful when the femme swiftly turned away and left him to his work. Hours later, when the sun was setting and the day's meager warmth fading into the chill of night Ratchet finally returned to the temple. He was tired, but happy. On his back his begging bowl was full of energon goodies, rust sticks and sweet crystals. These would be good to have for youngling patients. The empty gourd he always carried was now full of energon, and a small vial of high grade rested in a deep pocket of his robes.

This treasure, the high grade he would offer to Buddha, for what need did a lowly priest have for such extravagances? He moved through the doorway, removing his woven hat and froze staring at pallets of wood, buckets of forged tacks, lengths of rope and rolls of parchment waiting to be used to rebuild the temple. One wall had been finished already, new wood shone in the fading sunlight and Ratchet all but wept for joy. The honorable Buddha would no longer molder in a ruined temple.

Ratchet laid the small vial at the feet of the Buddha statue, then bathed in the nearby stream to cleanse himself from the day. Clean and tired he performed his evening prayers and meditation then drank only a serving of energon and lay down in contented, exhausted slumber.

As the sun set in the west the night darkened sky brightened in the east as the moon rose round and full. The moon rabbit shone brightly from the heavens thrashing its rice as the moon slowly ascended into the sky. Inside the temple the horrific statues of the Buddha guarding demons slowly shifted releasing the ethereal Sunstreaker and Sideswipe from their prisons once more.

"Sides," Sunstreaker stared in amazement at the far wall, it was completely remade wih shoji screens across its windows that blocked the night's chill. "Look what he has done."

"He's rebuilding." Sideswipe grinned. Together they looked to the slumbering priest with exhaustion lining his features. "He is a good priest, like they were." Sunstreaker nodded, both demon brothers remembering the warrior priests of old. Despite this new mortal bearing no weapons they could smell the strong spirit within him and taste his courage. Few mortals passing through since those ancient priests were slaughtered had such spirit and none so powerful as this priest.

"We can rebuild." Sunstreaker smiled, turning to work the wood and ropes left by the grateful villagers into new walls and ceiling. Throughout the night, their noise silenced by demonic powers, the brothers wrought wood and tacks, rope and paper together into a new, grand entrance for the temple. With dawn's approach the brothers once more were drug back into their statues, this time though, they went willingly and smiled.

Ratchet awoke with the first light of dawn feeling like he had listened to someone speaking in his sleep. The strong feeling of having others near through the night had been strong, and comforting. After so long of living alone wandering on his own it had felt good to be around others. Yet as he looked around whoever had been here was already gone.

"What the?" Ratchet sat up straight as he took in the grand shoji screen doors at the temple entrance, the walls were remade along with the shoji screens covering the windows and new support pole to prop them open in winter. The place smelled of fresh wood and sawdust. It was a pleasant smell that made Ratchet almost homesic for the long lost village he had grown up in.

"How could anyone have rebuilt while I slept?" he looked around the temple, and for one terrified moment he feared that the demon had cast him to sleep for a thousand years. Rushing outside he spotted his own ped-prints leading to the temple and those of the villagers who began the rebuilding process as they came and went the afternoon before. "Then who rebuilt?" Ratchet asked nervously and glanced to the guardian demons that protected Buddha.

Ratchet stepped closer to the statues, circling one, then the other. Had they always held an air of happiness? He had thought they looked terrifying the day before. But now they looked almost melancholy.

"Gah! I _have_ been alone far too long if I am feeling emotional for a pair of wooden statues!" Ratchet huffed then began his moring prayers before heading off in a different direction from the day before, ensuring to investigate the villages surrounding this grand temple.

* * *

1) Miko – priestess of Shinto faith, often considered caretakers of the shrines.

_2) Nadebotoke_ – literally a rubbing Buddha statue. People rub their hands over the area of the statue where they have an illness or injury to pray for health and wellness.

3) Binzuru – the most widely revered of the Arhat in Japan. Statues of Binzuru, in painted wood or stone, are usually well worn, since the faithful follow the custom of rubbing a part of the effigy corresponding to the sick parts of their bodies, as he is reputed to have the gift of healing. He is also frequently offered red and white bibs and children's caps to watch over the health of babies, so that his statue is often decked in rags.

4) Kannon – goddess of mercy and compassion; in Japan and other Far East countries depicted as female, in Tibet and India is primarily male. Several figures of Kannon in different manifestations take on different genders in Japanese art.

Let me know if any other terms are unfamiliar. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:: **AU, inspired by Sidian007's fantastic Meiji Former series on Deviant Art._

* * *

_Japan, April 30, 1851_

Humming echoed through the finished temple, a deep rumbling tune that spoke of happier times. Ratchet worked to clean the temple from top to bottom polishing it with dark pine tar bubbling in a hearth to warm the temple during prayers. These days working with the six villages around the temple had been the best Ratchet could ever remember. Each village had donated wood, rope, pine tar, tools, stone work, ground clearing and other chores to the temple restoration. Ratchet's energon gourd was now _three_ energon gourds all full. He also had a new rush robe to keep the spring rains off. Wax polish for his plating, solvent crystals for baths and fresh crystal herbs and ores that had been nearly depleted from his healing chest.

Restocked and well fed Ratchet felt the itching to be on his way once more, but not today. With a last few strokes of a heavy rush bundle Ratchet finished burnishing the new wood. Turning to an old cloth left by Downspin, the snooty grey mech from his first night in this area, Ratchet began buffing the cool tar to a high shine. The work was welcome, as was the chill spring rain that kept everyone indoors today. He loved this time of year, and had every window open to let the sounds of the surrounding forest and falling rain fill the temple. As he worked the dim brightness of day dimmed towards night, and with one last long, raking scrub of a rush brush against the floor Ratchet threw out the wash water and left to sit by the low hearth warming some energon for his meal.

Once warmed he collected water for a rinse by the hearth, then turned to his prayers and meditation, letting his devotion last well past darkness and into the night. Why not? He had nowhere to go tomorrow. He would spend his last day in the temple ensuring that when a priest was sent by one of the nearby temples that all would be ready.

Around the meditating priest cherry paneling burnished dark with pine tar lined the walls, bringing a warm hue to the lovingly restored Buddha idol standing tall in the center of the temple. Smelling richly of pine and incense the temple possessed an energy uniquely its own. Sitting at the foot of the Buddha was the last of the high grade Ratchet had been gifted, left to the Lord as he himself could not consume such extravagance.

Ratchet's chanting filled the night lending a sonorous litany to the singing night birds and burbling stream beyond the open temple windows. Moonlight streamed into the temple through a break in the clouds and the open windows, the milky light inching like ghostly fingers across the polished floor, tracing up the chanting priest's spinal struts and over his helm until it touched the fearsome guardian statues standing at the Buddha's sides as his guardians for all time.

With the first breath of moonlight upon the age blackened wooden statues, the fearsome visages of the storm gods shifted, flowing like the running time sands as black wood fell away revealing two mechs: one the vermilion of the tori-i gates that stand before the Shinto shrines, the other the yellow of the chrysanthemum, the true color of courage. (1)

Only when fully bathed in the moon's light did the former statues stir. Optics blazed the brilliant blue of Ameteratsu's first light and they were alive! Both blinked weakly, their frames heavy with life as they stared at the temple now complete and whole. The curse upon them had been broken by the bodhisattva guised as a humble priest sent to their aid. There, before them kneeling in prayers, his voice filling the temple like a brass gong ringing to the heavens, was the priest.

The figure they had watched through their nightly toils now sat up, awake and his glory blessed by Buddha himself outshone the moon's brightness. The chanted litany of prayers and thanks to Buddha and other benefactors unknown filled the room with the feeling of Heaven. Then, stepping out from the brilliant moonlight cascading into the pristine sanctuary like a maid stepping from bathing in a river appeared Kannon.

"Sons of Susano-o, gods of Wind and Thunder." She greeted sweetly, but not warmly, "Your imprisonment has been lifted, thanks only to a mortal. However, your punishment will continue. For all the cruel deeds you have done neither the Jade Emperor nor benevolent Amateratsu will take you back. For your cruelty and selfish misdeeds you will remain as mortals for all eternity."

"Can't we negotiate this?" Sideswipe begged, horrified at the thought of living as mortals once more, only this time to never die.

Kannon stepped backwards into the brilliant moonlight ready to abandon the wayward gods and paused, her depthless optics glancing sharply down on the kneeling priest. Studying the white helm and proud, dark chevron upon his brow, Kannon glanced back up to the brothers with a smirk on her divine features. "How about a bargain? Keep this priest safe, stay by his side no matter where he goes and, when his time of passing comes all three will be returned to Heaven once more." She smiled once more, a mysterious smirk and vanished.

"Once more?" Sideswipe asked looking to his brother in bewilderment.

"Who the slag are you?" Ratchet cried, forgetting himself as he scrabbled backwards away from the strange mechs dressed as the ancient samurai of long ago. Their frames were heavily layered with armor plates. Long swords hung at their sashes and massive glaives rested easily in each warrior's hand. They were tall, imposing and terrible with masks of demonic fury hiding their faces.

Half dressed, his robes having been removed from his shoulders and bound only at the waist Ratchet hastily fled the temple grabbing only his medicine cabinet and fleeing into the pouring rain.

"Uh, he can see us?" Sunstreaker asked looking down to his now corporeal hand then to his brother even as they rushed after the half dressed fleeing priest.

Ratchet raced from the temple ignoring the sheeting rain, his only thought to escape the haunted temple and the demons who had come for his soul. Memories from other times, of periods where life had been good only for him to screw it up again and again came back to Ratchet's panicked mind. He fled fearing that every time he had failed the Buddha's teachings had finally caught up to him in the form of terrible demons come to drag him down to hell.

Unheeding of where he ran Ratchet failed to see the swollen river looming before him through the sheeting rain or hear its roaring over the rolling thunder echoing through the skies. Too late, a flash of lightning rent the skies blinding him just as he tumbled into the swollen river. He felt the water pulling him down, threatening to drag him under.

"Whoa!" Strong, solid arms grabbed him, encircled his frame and hauled him from the rushing water back onto the banks. Strutless with fear, Ratchet could only collapse onto the ground staring up at his questionable saviors in mute terror.

The more terrifying of the two demons, the paler monster with intimidating projections coming off his armored helm sighed heavily, his breath misting in the chill air. "Let's get him inside." Ratchet could only tremble, grasping his medicine chest to his frame with his remaining strength as he was guided back to the temple and into the warmth.

The darker demon knelt before him, bright optics blinking curiously at him. "I thought a priest all alone out here would be a lot tougher."

Ratchet rumbled warningly, "I am not a coward!" he seethed, although any fear he may have invoked in the crouching frame before him was ruined by the water streaming from his soaked robes as he shivered.

"Then why run?" The other monster queried softly, "If we had wanted to hurt you, you would never have finished your sutras."

Ratchet swallowed, looking warily from one form to the other. Their breath steamed in the temple as the night grew colder from the rain. "You are mechs?" Ratchet asked looking from one fearsome visage to the other and back again.

"Let's call it a long story and have you get changed." The dark demon sighed as he pulled off the decorative helmet and face mask. "I'm Sideswipe."

"Sunstreaker," The other drew off his own mask and helmet revealing two youngish mechs who could have passed for princes. Their bearing was regal, their optics bright and cunning. "Do we get your name or do we just keep calling you _yamabushi_?"(2)

"Yama –! I'm Ratchet, and I'm no mountain priest! I'm a healer." The last part was spoken softly, as Ratchet gently set down his chest and inspected it with careful hands. "And this is the only thing I have that can help me save the lives of others."

"Come on, priest," Sunstreaker sighed, pulling Ratchet to his pedes and guiding him to sit by the hearth and a pile of clothes sitting warm by the fire. "Get changed and dried off. The last thing we need is a sick healer."

"How did you two get here?" Ratchet asked eyeing them warily. He was grateful when they turned from him, granting him a modicum of privacy.

Sunstreaker looked to his brother, optics worried. They couldn't tell him the truth, they just got him calmed down after thinking that they were some type of spooks. Telling him they were storm demons would just make things complicated. Sideswipe shrugged animatedly, armor shifting in the darkness, making him yelp slightly when cold water trickled between the heavy plates to reach his plating.

"Help me get this thing off me." Sideswipe turned his back to Sunstreaker letting the other free him from the heavy armor they had been imprisoned in since they defected from the army of Prince Otomo after Emperor Tenji's death. Absently he wondered how long it had been since their imprisonment. (3)

"We were captured, imprisoned and left to die." Sunstreaker finally responded lowly, "We were left in darkness and couldn't see the sun. Just recently our captors vanished, our prison fell apart and now we're free."

Ratchet eyed them, "Ha, then where did you find the banned relics. Samurai have been outlawed for years."

"Samurai?" Sideswipe queried trying out the strange word. "What is samurai?" (4)

"You _are_ Japanese, correct?" Ratchet donned the warmed robes, wondering if these strangers had other clothing to wear. "You know, Nihon?"

"We know Wa and Yamato, what is Nihon?" Sunstreaker looked to Sideswipe wondering just what they had missed.

"_Wa_? Yamato? " Ratchet shook his head in disbelief optics widening in fear. "This land has been Nihon since the ancient Emperor Tenji." (5)

"Oh, that's what that fuss was about." Sideswipe replied absently, "Wa was easier to say – ouch!"

Sunstreaker shook his hand painfully after slapping Sideswipe up the back of the helm, "Idiot."

They looked over to Ratchet, the priest's face was pale, optics bright and breath coming in short panicked gasps. "Emperor Tenji died over a thousand years ago."

The brothers were silent, helms bent and optics dark. Sideswipe swallowed tightly, intakes hitching.

"What demon placed you under the thousand year sleep?" Ratchet asked finally getting over his shock. His optics looked from the soaked brothers to the demon statues standing eternal guard beside the Buddha and wondered where the pair had come from. He stood, retrieving his medical case and checking on the brothers as they divested themselves of their soaked armor. He looked them over, noting not even the faintest tracing of scars along their bodies. Their hands were as delicate as maidens', lacking any rough spots from wielding swords.

"Fujin and Raijin," Sunstreaker nearly whispered, optics dark and distant. They had once run a bandit horde, they had been proud and feared with thousands of fighters following at their heels. Now not a one remained nor any who would remember their names.

"Whew, you two really know how to piss off the wrong Gods." Ratchet sighed, "Well, I don't know how well you two will survive this. You're young, at least you have that going for you. I'm too old to keep up with these strange times." Ratchet sighed feeling old, "Strange times indeed."

"How strange can it be?" Sideswipe tried to laugh, but only a dry croak came out.

"Giant men with great metal-barbed beards forced our ports open six years ago. They brought ships that breathed smoke and strange tapping devices that can speak to people in other lands. Their women wear shiny dresses that show off their curves. They have weapons that can kill a thousand men from a league away."(6)

The brothers shared a worried glance at each other. "We have been sleeping for a long time, priest, tell us everything." Through the long night Ratchet told them of the passing ages, the Warring States era, Japan's isolation under the Tokugawa Regime, the strict government, inherited caste systems and the downfall of the powerful samurai in this new age of the Meiji Era and the strange mechs from this America across the seas. So much had happened, the brothers had been imprisoned in ancient times when Japan had still bowed to China, had entertained dreams of conquering Korea and had been little more than a collection of clans on the big island pretending to be a nation.

* * *

1) Yellow - courage, while this is a contradiction in the west where yellow is the equivalent of cowardice, in Japan this color was used by the emperor and shogun to display their courage. A frequent motif is the chrysanthemum throne of yellow flowers that symbolizes courage and bravery, the willingness to stand tall despite knowing that one may be cut down.

2) Yamibushi – mountain aesthetics or priests who believe enlightenment comes with commune with nature. 2011/10/05/japanese-mountain-folk-the-mystical-yam abushi/

3) Tenji – Emperor of Japan from 661 AD – 671 AD. Took the name Tenji meaning 'great reform' for participating in the Taika Reforms for the military.

4) Samurai – Traditionally referred to as _bushi_ in Japanese, meaning one who waits upon another of the upper ranks of society, only around the 9th century AD, did the word samurai come into use.

5) Naming Japan – The Chinese called the land of Japan _Wa_ while the early Japanese often used the term Yamamoto, referencing the ruling clan. The term Nihon or Nippon (more formal, used in official capacity) was not coined until sometime in the early 6th century AD, before Tenji's reign, but during his parents' reign, Emperor Jomei and Empress Kōgyoku.

6) Telegraph – Commodore Perry brought gifts of telegraph machines and cables when he broke Japan's isolation. The telegraph was invented around 1792 and Morse code in 1836.


End file.
